Km 13541
An enormous green sign on the highway sponsored by Coca-Cola, whose red letters contrasted with the green landscape, indicated the entrance in the Oaxaca state and if I was a cyclist from another planet, I would be excused for thinking that the sign was a welcome sign to the state of Coca-Cola. Mexico is the biggest consumer of that dark mysterious liquid, with the largest consumption per capita in the world. The 400 and few Kilometers of the coast between Acapulco and Puerto Escondido, known by "Costa Chica" were not the most exciting for cycling. The coast is quite hot and humid, and the surrounding hills very hot and dry. The sea and the sky, both an almost silver brilliant blue, seemed to converge in an almost imperceptible line, the one that reminded me of Carlos Pellicer's quotation: "blue province, where the blue is sky, where the blue is sea." It is easy to romanticize these landscapes, but the Mexican writer probably spent his hot afternoons lying in his hammock in the shade and not cycling…
East of Puerto Escondido are located the legendary beaches of Puerto Angel, Mazunte and Zipolite. Small bays separated by peninsulas, these have been growing in popularity with independent tourists, to whom I call ‘barefoot’ tourists, who prefer to flee the cement clad resorts of the central pacific coast and to stay in beaches a little more authentic.
The accommodation is provided by local families in huts by the sea or in simple hostels, many prefer to hang their hammocks to sleep. Although basic the facilities are welcoming. The ‘mota’ circulates freely around the beaches, and in Zipolite there is even the occasional ‘punchi punchi’ party in the sand until dawn. ‘Punchi-punchi’ is the name given by some Mexicans to techno music. I chose Mazunte beach to relax a few days away from the hardship of the road, because of its cozy atmosphere. Apart from an interesting turtle research centre, who choose this part of the pacific coast to lay their eggs, other activities available include joining the pelicans for a dive in the waters of the Pacific ocean, sleep a ‘siesta’ in a hammock, eat and drink a few Coronas, read a book, comb the sand, adore the sun and drink a few more Coronas. Well, there are plenty of activities to keep one occupied during a week. Many of those who arrive never leave and the small community of foreigners who have permanent residence in the area has been increasing.
4 days later got back on the road, again…
Arriving to Salina Cruz the strong winds characteristic of this area became more intense. This would be the point where I was going to abandon the Pacific on my way to Cancun in the Caribbean. I had two options: head directly North trough the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, the narrower part of Mexico, about 200 kilometers from sea to sea, trough a gap in the mountain range that runs through all Mexico from North to South, but despite, according to locals, being a relatively flat area, the winds are known to make trucks capsize. The other option was to follow Northeast to the mountains of Chiapas to Tuxtla. The strong wind that I could feel in those days made me opt for the mountains.
The night was already pitch dark when I entered Cintalapa town Centre and looked for the ‘Zocalo’, or main square. Like many European Latin countries, in Mexico, the villages, towns and cities are centered around the main square full of shade featuring a main church or cathedral. The ‘zocalo’ was buzzing with people. I notice someone running next to my bike shouting:
‘habla ingles?’
-I am a cyclist too!
John was from Wales and was the first cyclist I encountered in Mexico main land. I stayed in the same hotel where he was and on the following day we traveled together to Tuxtla Gutierrez. At dinner in a ‘comedor’ near the Zocalo, we shared impressions of our journeys. John started to cycle in Mexico City and he is going to Lima in Peru. It wasn’t long until we asked the question that we were both anxious to know:
-and the Darien? Are you going to attempt to do cross it?
The Darien is a myth, a borderline zone between Panama and Colombia of dense, almost impenetrable jungle, a no man’s land which grew surrounded by histories of contraband, drugdealing, guerrillas and illegal emigration. It is also a natural barrier that separates the two Americas and protects the amazing biodiversity and the indigenous communities who live there. The so called ‘Darien Gap’ has been captivating adventurers in all forms of transports trough decades. Those 100 kilometers of dense vegetation, interrupts the Pan-American Highway and denies it from being crowned as the longest road on the planet.
We decided to keep in touch, there are still several countries and you never know…
It would be impossible to reach Cancun on bicycle before the 27th of February, for the arrival of Joana Oliveira from Leiria on her two week cycling holiday, I had no option but to break one of the principles of this journey, to not utilize motorized means of transport, except on occasions where I had no alternative (as it was when the crossing of the Cortes Sea). It was very awkward to see the landscape passing so fast trough my eyes and me being inside a compartment made of tin and glass. I could hardly focus on the birds and the tree branches; they were gone as quick as they appeared. And where were the children’s voices, or the birds singing and the barking dogs that usually chased after me? The only sounds I could hear were from the screen above my head showing action movies mixed with the sound of ‘ranchera’ music that the driver was listening to ‘loud and proud’.
And the smell of flowers? The people on the road side? I could not see their smiles, I could not say ‘Ola’, look them in the eyes or shake their hands and feel the hardship of their firm hands. I observed with attention the ascents and descents, the curves and the contra-curves but I could not feel them. I felt remorse and worse when I saw John trough the window pane. It was two in the afternoon and he was lying on some rocks on the side of the road, with his hat on his face, taking a ‘nap’ on top of a hill. People around me commented:
He must be ‘loco’, there lying in the sun! ‘el gringo’!
I’m sure that I myself have been at the centre of comments like this, however I would instantly swap the air conditioning of the bus and all that surrounded me to be there next to him. It was an agonizing journey, but it made my conviction stronger that there is no better way to travel than by bike, ‘the animal of traction where the beast pushes seated’, as my uncle once told me.
I arrived to Playa del Carmen, 70 kilometers south of Cancun at the break of dawn. Playa del Carmen the beach town with the highest level of tourism growth in Mexico. It is an anodyne resort with tourism facilities like many others which exist scattered along both Mexican coasts, and despite having a more relaxed atmosphere than Cancun, I needed to get out of here as soon as I can. I have visited enough places like this, where Mexican culture is obfuscated by the commodities demanded by western tourists, and it is not to visit places like this that I have chosen to do this journey on two wheels. As soon as Joana arrives we will go for two weeks of relaxed cycling and leisure trough the Yucatan Peninsula.
It will be only after the Yucatan that I will condiment my passage through Mexico with a bit more of adventure, ascending finally the mountains of Sierra Madre Sur, in the state of Chiapas, Zapatist territory, where I hope to leave the tourist trail and possibly make some stages ‘off road’. But first I will cycle to the city where I got the bus, for the pure relief of my conscience.
Nuno Brilhante Pedrosa
in Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo, Mexico
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